


Blurs

by blackeyedqueen



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: Angst, Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackeyedqueen/pseuds/blackeyedqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tate's sure Violet's haunting him; a ghost haunting a ghost. VIolet's lost herself and all Tate can do is watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blurs

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: mentions of past self harm.

It was just a blur.

I thought I saw my beloved Violet walking past a doorway.

But whether it was or not, I’ll never know, because it was just a blur.

It seems everything is a blur.

The endless days and nights blur together, the visions blur together, the faces blur together. It is all just a blur.

It feels like she's haunting me. Not in the way the face of a lost love or your guilty thoughts haunts your conscience, but in the way that I feel her presence, I see blurs of her passing, I hear her whisper, I see her standing in my peripheral, just to turn and face an empty space. A ghost haunting a ghost.

I would chase her at first, I would try to hunt her down, I would yell for her, scream for her, cry for her, even. But I never saw her. Just a blur.

So I got used to them. Because they were as close to her as I could get.

One time, my Violet was crying. One time, in all the years we’ve been doomed to this eternal hell. She was in what used to be her room, what used to be my room. Middle of the night, no light, a blur of a shadow huddled in the corner, drowning in tears. And I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t hold her in my arms and tell her everything was ok, even though she knew it wasn’t. I couldn’t kiss the scars she once cut into her own flesh. I couldn’t burrow my face in her hair as I hold her and breathe her in. I could only watch from the distance, invisible to her, breaking inside, as the blur of a shadow of my beloved slumped in a corner, weeping into her clothes. Deep down I felt like she was crying for me. Even if she didn’t know it.

Maybe she’s lost.

Maybe she’s confused.

Maybe she’s forgotten me.

Maybe her soul is just wandering around the house wondering, “How did I get here? Where do I go?”

Then I’ll never see her again. Because she told me to go away. And it’s been so long, so, so, so long, since she said goodbye. So maybe now she’s lost. And I can’t find her. And all I have are blurs.


End file.
